


So Sick

by LouLa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick!Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Sick

“You alright?”

Harry swipes his sleeve across his forehead and then looks up, nodding in reply to Louis' question.

The nonverbal response in itself is enough to confirm Louis' suspicion that something's off, but they're on in ten and there's not much he can do about it now. As they walk out on stage, he places his hand low on Harry's back and gently guides him along beside Liam, giving neither of them any choice but to sit how Louis wants them, in back with Harry between them. Liam doesn't look happy about it, as it's not how they'd planned on sitting as it leaves Niall and Zayn out front for questioning, but with Harry between them, they can field the questions more easily, take the pressure off of him if it comes to that. Louis rubs soothingly at the back of Harry's neck as he fights off a wince at the crowd's screaming.

And then the hosts start talking, and Harry's plastering on a smile, but Louis can see the frown between his eyebrows and the glaze to his eyes. His skin feels fever hot under Louis' palm, and honestly, he couldn't tell you what happens the entire interview, but they make it through.

The crowd is even louder as they're leaving than it was when they came in and Harry ends up clutching at Louis' arm, looking shaky and downright ill. Louis ushers him along faster, smiling politely at the hosts, nodding as they pass. The boys follow his lead, leaving the stage a little faster than they usually would, and as soon as they've rounded the corner, out of sight, Harry clamps his hand over his mouth and jogs wobbly back in the direction of their dressing rooms.

“Okay, come on, almost there,” Louis says, quickly wrapping an arm around Harry's back to steady him as they rush through the maze of stage equipment and personnel.

Once they reach the loo, Harry falls to his knees so quickly it makes Louis wince, knowing it had to hurt. He retches loudly into the toilet and Louis watches helplessly, swearing under his breath. He wants to help, but he's got no idea how he possibly could. Then he remembers home ― how his mum would rub his back when he was sick, and how she'd do the same for his sisters.

He steps closer to Harry and touches him hesitantly at first, not wanting to scare him. Harry just groans miserably, his arms shaking where he's propping himself up against the toilet, knuckles white from his death grip on the rim of it.

“Shh,” Louis soothes, stroking up and down his back.

The door opens just as another violent wave hits Harry, wracking his whole body. Louis glances up and sees Liam grimacing in the doorway.

“Oh. Jeez, Haz.”

“I've got him,” Louis says.

Liam meets Louis' eyes and nods. “Okay. I'll let 'em know. Feel better, buddy,” Liam says as he backs out, frown deepening when Harry sobs.

Louis reaches up to Harry's forehead and brushes his hair back away from it, feeling the slick of sweat and the heat of fever under his palm.

“Burning up, Hazza,” Louis whispers.

“Lou,” Harry whines, leaning his head back to rest against Louis' thigh.

Louis stretches to reach a handful of paper towels and gets them damp under the tap, wiping the layer of sweat from Harry's brow first. He tosses them and flushes the toilet, then grabs another stack. Harry twists away when Louis wipes at his mouth, buries his face into Louis' hip and sniffs wetly.

“I'm fine,” he manages to say, voice trembling.

Louis doesn't bother contradicting him, because clearly he's _not_ fine. Instead he wordlessly cards his fingers through Harry's hair, sweeps it away from where it's sticking to his temples.

“I'm okay,” he chokes out shakily. “I– I'm fine.”

Harry's crying, Louis realizes, and he renews his efforts, hushing him gently as he strokes through his hair. “You're alright, Hazza. I'm here. You're gonna be okay,” he murmurs.

“H– hate b– being sick.”

“Shh. Just let it out. Get it over with.”

Harry shakes his head slowly. “Hate throwing up.”

The words are barely out of him mouth and he's lurching forward again, shaking so hard with every harsh sound. Louis feels terrible, absolutely terrible for him. He smooths Harry's hair back from his face and keeps it gathered there lightly, holding a wet napkin to Harry's forehead.

It's another twenty minutes before Harry even attempts to stand, and then it's on legs that barely work. Louis feels like he's half carrying him out, and Harry's given a bag to take in the vehicle with them. He obstinately refuses to throw up, though Louis tells him not to hold it in, the bag's there, it's fine. Everyone else is quiet, mindful, and Harry is trying so hard to muffle his cries into Louis shirt.

Louis just holds him closer to his chest, whispering softly to him, “It's alright, love. Almost there, almost there.”

They make it to the hotel carpark before Harry loses it, whimpering his way through apologies that fall on deaf ears. Everyone assures him it's okay, he's got nothing to apologize for.

Zayn's the only one who can't seem to handle it, his earbuds shoved tightly into his ears and his head completely averted. They get him out first, then Louis helps Harry from the van, the other boys like a barricade around them, encasing Harry in between their protective stances.

The elevator's a tough ride up but then they're there and Harry collapses onto the bathroom floor, shaking and shaking and shaking.

Louis calls Jay three times in three hours, panicking each and every time because _no one_ has ever been this sick before, that Louis can remember, and she talks him down, gets him calm enough to go back in with Harry, to sit next to him and rub his back or offer him little sips of water.

“You're gonna get sick, Lou. I'm alright,” Harry manages to croak.

It's past eleven o'clock and Louis is frankly exhausted but he simply shakes his head, scoots in closer to Harry, and kisses the side of his head.

“I smell terrible,” Harry mutters.

That's entirely true, he really does, but. “Still love you,” Louis whispers, kissing Harry's curls one more time before he leans back to smile reassuringly at Harry.

Harry attempts a smile for Louis, opens his mouth to say something, and then he's once again flinging himself at the toilet, heaving violently despite having gone empty hours ago.

_So much for that,_ Louis thinks, resuming his position behind Harry to rub his back through it and preparing himself for one hell of a long night.


End file.
